


Grangertale

by Pixiemage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Tumblr Challenge, will add characters as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiemage/pseuds/Pixiemage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione Granger had always been a curious little girl. Her curiosity often brought her to find herself in the most curious of situations. By the age of three, she had figured out how to slip through the fence in the backyard so she could visit the pet shop down the road. By age five, she had learned how to scale the bookshelves to reach the most interesting novels her parents owned. At age six, her mother had gotten a call from her preschool because she had somehow managed to fall out of a tree and onto another student, knocking them unconscious. She later claimed she had only wanted to talk to the squirrel she had seen skittering along the branches. Her father had laughed for a long while after the incident.</p><p>So at age eight, when the Granger family took their annual trip to Hermione’s grandparents’ cabin in the mountains, it really came as no surprise that the young girl’s curiosity quickly pulled her into yet another interesting adventure.</p><p>Undertale AU in which Hermione falls into the Underground and learns about magic much earlier than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Curious Little Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there!
> 
> This was written for a Tumblr challenge in which you had to take your first fandom and your newest fandom and create something involving both. Writing is my weapon of choice, so...here ya go! I plan on continuing this story through the whole game, but I think I'd like to take it some interesting places outside of the linear storyline. A derailment from the original timeline, perhaps a reset or two? Who knows! It may depend entirely on the audience's opinion.
> 
> Also, this story has no beta reader, so any and all input is welcome! Thanks!

Hermione Granger had always been a curious little girl. Her curiosity often brought her to find herself in the most curious of situations. By the age of three, she had figured out how to slip through the fence in the backyard so she could visit the pet shop down the road. By age five, she had learned how to scale the bookshelves to reach the most interesting novels her parents owned. At age six, her mother had gotten a call from her preschool because she had somehow managed to fall out of a tree and onto another student, knocking them unconscious. She later claimed she had only wanted to talk to the squirrel she had seen skittering along the branches. Her father had laughed for a long while after the incident.

 

So at age eight, when the Granger family took their annual trip to Hermione’s grandparents’ cabin in the mountains, it really came as no surprise that the young girl’s curiosity quickly pulled her into yet another interesting adventure.

“Did you remember the lunches, darling?” Mr. Granger sat crouched over one of three large hiking bags by the front door. He had a well-kept appearance, his hair and clothes neat and orderly. Today he had abandoned his usually khakis in favor of a pair of comfortable denim jeans.

“Already packed, dear,” Mrs. Granger's voice rang from the small, cozy kitchen across the cabin. She emerged with a warm smile, six bottled waters in her arms. She deposited two beside each pack by the door, planting a quick kiss on her husband’s temple before heading for the stairs. Her bushy brown hair had been pulled back into a neat ponytail and her thin frame was adorned with a flannel shirt and jeans. It was an unusual look for the dentist, but today was a special case.

“Thinking ahead, as always.” Her husband smiled to himself. An older man with thinning grey hair and rectangular spectacles stood from his comfortable armchair near the fire and strode over to his son-in-law, hands tucked neatly into his pockets.

“I’m terribly sorry we can’t join you this year,” he offered a melancholy apology. “But my knees simply can’t handle the hike anymore.”

“I’m sorry as well,” the younger man paused in his packing to smile sadly up at the elder. “I know how much you both enjoy it.”

“Ah, no matter.” He waved away the comment and grinned. “We’ll get along just fine on our own. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

His wife glanced up from her book briefly to smile at the two men.

“Of course,” she nodded. “I recently bought a new book that I am so _very_ excited to start reading anyhow. I’ll choose reading over the outdoors any day.”

“Of course you would.” The older gentleman pretended to be exasperated by his wife’s behavior. “You’ve read so many books, I’m surprised you haven’t turned into one yet.”

 

A small, childish giggle erupted across the room and the adults present all smiled.

 

Hermione Granger had been sitting silently in the very corner of the room, curled up like a cat in her favorite armchair, practically buried in a nest of warm blankets with a book held up right in front of her nose - ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland'. But despite how focused on the story she seemed to be, it came as no surprise to her family that she had been listening the whole time.

“Are we all ready to go?” Hermione’s mother descended the staircase just as her husband finished zipping up the bags.

“I think we are.” He heaved one of the packs onto his back and stooped to pick up a much smaller one. “Ready, Hermione?”

Faster than seemed humanly possibly, the young girl snapped her book shut and leapt from her tangled nest of blankets, bouncing and skipping her way to the door, bushy brown hair floofing out around her like it had a life of its own. The girl was the spitting image of her parents, with her mother’s hair and chocolate-brown eyes, and her father’s nose and mouth - albeit with the exception of her abnormally large front teeth. Today she was wearing a pair of blue denim shorts, brown ankle boots, and an overly large blue-and-pink striped jumper her grandmother had knitted for her. She had worn it every day since arriving at the cabin and wasn’t going to be taking it off any time soon.

“Yes, Father!” Hermione beamed, bouncing on her toes in anticipation. Mrs. Granger laughed as she secured her own pack.

“Excited, are we?”

“Very excited,” Hermione nodded, continuing to chatter while her father helped her put on her pack. “I can’t wait to see what plants I’ll be able to identify this time. Oh! Or perhaps we’ll see some birds! I read that the chaffinch species is common on Mount Ebott. They eat berries and seeds and sometimes flower buds.”

“Oh really?” Mr. Granger asked with enthusiastic interest while Mrs. Granger hid a laugh behind her hand. “What else have you read about chaffinches?”

“Well their nests are very neat and round, and they lay eggs that are greyish-pink with little brown splotches all over them.” The young girl paused in her ramblings with a small frown. “Except ‘chaffinch’ is just their common name. Their scientific name is ‘ _fringilla calo…coah…coel…_ ’” She stumbled over the second half of the name.

“Fringilla coelebs?” her grandfather supplied, a spark of joy alight in his eye at their shared interest. Bird watching was an old pastime of his, and he was ecstatic that Hermione seemed to enjoy it just as much as he did.

“Yes!” Hermione beamed. “That’s it!”

“Well it looks like you two will have a lot to talk about when we get back,” Mrs. Granger laughed softly. “That is, if we ever actually leave in the first place.”

“Oh!” Hermione’s eyes grew wide. “Of course!” And she was out the door before anyone could say another word.

 

 

Mount Ebott was absolutely beautiful this time of year. The plants were lush with new life and colorful flowers cropped up here and there across the mountainside. Wind rustled softly through the trees and birds and other wildlife could be heard going about their simple lives. It was rather peaceful. The quiet of the morning was only broken by Hermione’s endless stream of chatter, the young girl babbling away enthusiastically about this fern or that tree or that other flower blooming not far from the path. Her parents trailed behind her at a slightly slower pace, fingers laced together as they enjoyed the nature that surrounded them. Occasionally, one or the other would speak up to ask their energetic daughter a question about whatever she happened to be talking about, but for the most part they remained in a contented silence.

The hike up the mountain was not very difficult, as the paths were even and didn’t require much actual climbing, but the trek was certainly time consuming. The sun had just reached its peak in the sky when Mrs. Granger announced that they should stop for lunch. It was Hermione who found the flat, grassy area they settled down in to eat, lined on one side by a patch of purple heather. She twirled happily around the edge of the clearing while her father spread a flat blanket out on the ground.

“Having fun?” Mrs. Granger smiled, depositing her backpack on the ground beside their picnic spot.

“Yep!” Hermione stopped her spinning and swayed on the spot for a moment, dizzy. A smile slowly worked its way onto her face as her vision cleared and she calmed down enough to plop down on the blanket between her parents.

“Would you like ham and swiss, or turkey and cheddar?” Mr. Granger asked, digging through his wife’s bag where the lunch food was stored.

“Ham for me, please,” Mrs. Granger smiled and took the offered sandwich. “Thank you dear.”

“Of course,” Mr. Granger flashed her an affectionate smile. “Hermione?"

“Turkey!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly, reaching out.

“Sorry?” Hermione’s father held the sandwich just out of reach. “What was that?” Hermione screwed up her face in confusion, then–

“Turkey, please,” she said politely.

“That’s my girl.”

Hermione beamed proudly at her accomplishment and accepted the sandwich from her father.

“Thank you!”

“You’re very welcome.”

Mrs. Granger laughed behind her hand.

“It seems we have raised a very polite young lady,” she told her husband in a stage whisper.

“And very bright, too,” Mr. Granger agreed in a similar manner. Hermione giggled behind her sandwich.

 

Lunch continued in a similar manner. The two adults teased their daughter whilst exchanging adoring smiles over her head, and - per usual - it was the youngest of the three who finished her meal first. She begged her parents to let her explore a little bit on her own - “I won’t go far, I promise!” - to which neither could say no. So, bag slung over her pack, Hermione scampered off to find some new plants to examine. She had already picked a small handful of heather for her mother, along with some purpley-blue flowers that were shaped like bells. She stared hard at the purple bouquet in her hands. What were they called again? Oh! Mountain harebell, or the ‘bluebells of Scotland’ as people called them. _Campanula rotundifolia_. She let out a soft hum of contentment. Perhaps she could find more flowers to add to the bouquet? Some variety in color would be nice, perhaps some pink or red or–

Hermione gasped softly and scampered to the top of a nearby hill where a patch of brightly colored trumpet-shaped flowers were blooming, like tiny red starbursts. She didn’t recognize them but she picked a few anyway, smiling at the combination of different flowers she had collected. Her eyes scanned the area, gaze sweeping across the grass and rocks just beyond her little hilltop. A flash of yellow caught her attention. She frowned. With careful steps, Hermione climbed a few medium-sized boulders set into the side of a nearby incline, landing her at the top of a small grassy area where a large spread of familiar flowers were thriving. The curious young girl crouched to examine them.

“That’s not right,” she muttered. “You’re not supposed to grow here. How did you get here?” Her feet carried her forward, eyes trained on the snaking pattern of golden buttercups that spread from the edge of the hill all the way to…a cave? Hermione paused outside of the cave entrance and chewed her lip. It was very dark inside. In a moment of inspiration, she dug around in her bag and pulled out a flashlight, clicking it on and holding it out before her in both hands like a sword. Her eyes widened. Despite the darkness of the cave, the golden flowers had grown to cover the entirety of the cave’s floor…as far as she could see, anyway. It was impossible! Buttercups weren’t meant to grow in such conditions. The mystery of the cave pulled at her to enter, to step inside, to investigate.

And so she did. The greenery and flora continued much further into the cave, and as Hermione ducked around a curve in the stone tunnel, she realized why. Sun leaked in through a hole in the ceiling of the cavern, bathing a small patch of floor in warm light, and - she was sure - at certain times of day, when the sun's angle was just-so, it was probably much brighter in the rest of the cavern as well. The shadowed darkness continued beyond this, and she hesitated. Was it safe? She had wandered much deeper into the cave than she probably should have alone. Perhaps she should get her father, and together, they could–

But as she turned to leave, her flashlight caught the edge of a dark hole set into the floor just beyond the patch of light. Curiosity got the better of her and she inched closer, flashlight trained on the dark depths of the hole, shoes treading lightly between tangled vines and petals. The hole was absolutely massive, almost fifteen feet across in all directions, and she couldn’t see the bottom. Hermione kneeled at the very edge of the hole, flashlight pointing straight down into the darkness, eyes straining to see as far below her as she could. Was there a bottom at all? She couldn’t tell…

“Hermione?” Mrs. Granger’s voice called from far off and Hermione bit back a gasp. She sprang to her feet and spun on the spot.

“Mum! I’m in here!” she called back, excitement flooding her tone. “You won’t believe what I’ve fou–“ Quite suddenly, her left boot became tangled in the vines at her feet and she lost her balance, tipping backward with a sharp gasp. The ground seemed to disappear from beneath her and she let out an ear-splitting shriek of terror as she fell down, down, down into the pit behind her. Then her head collided with something hard and the world went black.


	2. Seeing Is Believing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon finding herself in a new, underground cavern, the ever-curious Hermione continues on to find a way out...and finds somebody else instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no idea how long it had been since I first posted this, but I recently discovered the second chapter sitting in my old Notes application. I figured, hey, since it already exists...might as well share it!

The whole world was fuzzy. Sounds and scents blurred together and thoughts were incoherent. Where was she? What had happened? What…ugh…her head felt as though it was about to split in two…

She lifted her right hand to the back of her head and felt a warm dampness there. She drew her hand back in shock, and fear flooded her when it came away red. All color left her face and she suddenly felt sick. No…oh no…this was very very bad… She stood up quicker than she probably should have and swayed on the spot, whimpering at the throbbing pain it caused. Her eyes skittered frantically around the area and only stopped when they fell on a bright purple backpack sitting near her. It seemed familiar. Was it hers? She couldn’t really remember…nor could she remember where she was or how she had gotten here. She racked her brain, trying to think, trying to remember…she had…she had...

 

A memory slotted into place, one of a large cave with creeping plants and a great big hole in the ground and–

 

Of course! She’d _fallen!_ She craned her neck to see where she had fallen from - a large hole high above her, through which a circle of light was pouring, the yellow flowers at her feet reflecting the light and giving the room a golden glow. Her eyes widened. Had she really fallen that far? The hole was at least two stories above her head…she supposed she should be grateful for the flowers, since they had probably broken the worst of her fall.

_'Not all of it,'_ she thought glumly as a sharp throb of pain reminded her of her head injury. She tugged the purple backpack onto her shoulders and circled on the spot. A cracked flashlight was casting a flickering glow across the ground a few feet away and she staggered over to it, picking it up and holding it aloft in an effort to see where she had landed. The walls around her were surprisingly smooth, as though they had been carefully carved into the stone, though the walls near the ceiling were much more natural and rough. The floor, too, looked carved and smoothed, all of it except for the patch she had landed on - that, it seemed, had been purposely replaced by dirt, maybe so the grass and flowers could be planted there. All of these observations brought her to a rather startling conclusion: if the stone had been carved and smoothed, and the stone floor replaced by soil, that would mean _someone_ would have to have done it. Someone else had been down here at some point, someone who had been here for quite a while if the size of the cave that had been carved out was anything to go by. Someone…but who?

_‘Who indeed?’_ a small thought cropped up in the back of her mind and her curiosity latched onto it. There _had_ to be someone else down here, right? She passed the beam of the flickering flashlight over the edges of the room and smiled in triumph when a dark hallway was revealed behind her. She walked toward it purposefully, careful not to jostle her head too much. It was hard. Every footstep sent a new spark of pain across her skull; she ignored it as best she could. But as the moved further along the darkening corridor, tension crept into her expression and her footsteps began to slow. Whereas the cavern before here had been lit by a bright patch of sunlight, the hallway seemed to get darker and darker the deeper she got. The darkness was encompassing, smothering, suffocating…and she clung fiercely to the weakening flashlight in her hands. She didn’t like this at all. A whimper escaped her and her grip on the flashlight tightened as she cast a furtive glance backward over her shoulder. Maybe she should have stayed in the sunlit room? Surely someone would have found her eventually?

_‘You should have thought of that before wandering off into a pitch black creepy tunnel,’_ her mind supplied. She almost agreed.

After a few long minutes of tense silence broken only by her hesitant footsteps, her flashlight illuminated an intricately carved doorway on the left side of the hall. She smiled at the minor victory and stepped forward more confidently, determined to find her way out of this cave and back to…back to…back to where, exactly? She frowned, no longer focussing on what lay ahead of her. She felt this inexplicable need to find her way out and return to somewhere, somewhere important. Somewhere…happy. Warm. Bright. Green.

 

Green?

 

Her focus snapped back to the situation at hand as another patch of green grass came into view, this one only two feet across, spotlighted by a tiny circle of sunlight. Her eyes flew skyward, but she couldn’t see where the sunlight was coming from–

“Howdy!” 

A high-pitched voice at her feet caused her to scream out in shock and drop her flashlight. It rolled away from her as she stared down at the patch of grass in utter disbelief.

There, in the very center of the circle of light, sat a bright yellow flower much like the ones she had landed on. Except this one was different. _This_ one had a face, with a beaming smile and wide friendly eyes, and it was _talking_.

“I’m Flowey!” it was saying, its leaves…arms?…moving about animatedly as it spoke. “Flowey the Flower!" 

“Er…hello there.” Her eyes were glued to the talking plant as she circled it slowly, inspecting every inch of it to see how it was able to move. She didn’t see any strings. “Are you real? Well, of course you’re not real, flowers can’t talk.”

“Of course I’m real,” the flower - Flowey - pouted, his stem twisting so he could see her as she walked behind him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“Because talking flowers don’t exist.” She said this so matter-of-factly and with such certainty that the flower before her seemed to wilt at her words. “You _can’t_ be real."  

“If I’m not real, then what do you think this is?” Flowey asked with an incredulous laugh. “A dream? If you’re so sure this is all in your head, why don’t you try pinching your arm.”

Her footsteps came to a stop directly in front of the little plant and she did as he said, her tiny fingers reaching across to the opposite arm and pinching the skin there. She yelped and her eyes widened, staring down at Flowey with a disbelieving expression.

“This is real,” she breathed. “I can’t believe it.”

“Well seeing is believing, as they say,” Flowey’s bright grin widened. A small smile found its way onto her face and her eyes lit up with a childlike wonder.

“This is amazing...” She sat cross-legged before Flowey and propped her chin on her hands, elbows on her knees. “I’ve never met a talking flower before.” 

_'Funny, how you can remember whether or not you’ve ever seen a talking flower before, but you can’t for the life of you remember where you came from.’_ She pushed the concerning thought away, and instead asked,

“Can other flowers talk down here?"

“Other flowers?” Flowey laughed. “Nope. I’m the only one. Just little old me!” At these words, she could have sworn his smile faded slightly. He seemed to contemplate something for a moment. Then, as if nothing had changed, he perked up and asked, “You’re new to the Underground, aren’tcha?” 

The way he said it made her wonder if ‘Underground’ was more than just a word in this case.

“Y-Yes, I suppose so,” she nodded carefully. Another small throb a pain in her head made her wince.

“Golly, you must be so confused,” Flowey said, eyes growing comically large.

“Um…a little,” she admitted. Tilting her head to the side, she opened her mouth to ask where exactly she was, but Flowey spoke before she got the words out.

“Someone ought to teach you how things work around here!” He exclaimed. His smile widened. “I guess little old me will have to do.” She tried to ask what he meant, but– “Ready?” Flowey’s eyes lit up in anticipation of…something. “Here we go!”

She gasped and jerked backward in shock as a strange feeling, like being tugged forward by her ribcage, washed over her. A gasp escaped her and she looked down to her chest where - she stared with wide eyes - a bright red heart floated in midair before her, outlined by a brilliant white glow. She attempted to scramble backwards away from it but it followed her, hovering inches in front of her ribcage, pulsing slightly as though it had a life of its own.

“Wow…”

Her eyes snapped back to Flowey, who was gazing at the heart with awe and wonder.

“I haven't seen a soul glow that brightly before, not since…” His gaze became distant. She got the impression he was remembering something, but she didn’t bother thinking on it for longer than a moment. Something he had said was of more pressing concern to her at the moment.

“Soul?" 

“Soul…soul!” Flowey snapped back to the present and tore his eyes from the floating heart. “That heart is your soul, the very culmination of your being.”

“That’s my soul?” Hermione repeated. Her eyes flicked downward again and she raised a hand to the glowing shape, her fingers hovering just above its surface but not daring to actually touch it.

“Most souls start off weak, but can grow strong if you gain a lot of LV,” Flowey continued, an odd smile gracing his features. “But _your_ soul is already strong. Imagine how much stronger it can become…”

“Is LV an acronym?” she asked, curiosity peaked. “What does it stand for?"

“Why, LOVE of course!”

Hermione’s eyes brightened. Her soul would grow stronger the more love she gained? That sounded rather nice. It never occurred to her to wonder why every word Flowey spoke sounded scripted, rehearsed. 

“You want some LOVE, don’t you?”

Hermione nodded, carefully finding her footing and standing upright again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll share some with you!” The flower flourished his leaves, summoning a flurry of glowing off-white pips, like seeds. They floated around him, and Hermione couldn’t help but wonder what they were. “Down here, LOVE is shared through little white ‘friendliness pellets’.”

“That’s a stupid name.” The comment left her automatically, her opinion thrown out into the open regardless of whether it was wanted or not. Flowey humphed indignantly.

“It’s a better name than the _King_ could have come up with,” he spat. “No need to be rude.”

“I’m sorry, but it _is_ stupid!” Hermione protested, hands on hips. “Friendliness pellets? Might as well call them ‘kindness buttons’ or ‘friendship seeds’. Whoever named them really didn’t put much thought into it, did they?”

“Do you want LOVE or not?” the little flower snapped, surprisingly loud for something so small. Hermione huffed and nodded.

“Yes, of course,” she rolled her eyes. The tone she used suggested this should have been obvious. “Why would I not?”

“Then stop criticizing! Just - collect as many as you can, got it, pipsqueak?”

Hermione was ready with yet another retort, ready to tell the plant that ‘I am not a pipsqueak! I’m of very average size for my age, thank you very much!’ …but the little ‘friendliness pellets’ had started to move, and Hermione didn’t want to miss this opportunity. She took a step forward, reaching out for one of the glowing dots. Much to her surprise, the moment it touched her skin, pain coursed through her and her soul started flashing. The little girl let out a pained cry and withdrew, staring at Flowey with confused, hurt eyes…then her expression turned to one of uncertainty and fear. Flowey no longer looked friendly. The look on his face…it was one of smug satisfaction, and Hermione couldn’t help but take a step away from him.

“W-What did you do to me?” she asked. “What were those? They were not friendly! That name is far from accurate!”

“Well of course they’re not friendly,” Flowey jeered. “You _idiot_. So trusting. _Too_ trusting. In this world, it’s kill or BE killed.”

The young girl’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers. K-Kill…? A high-pitch, wickedly playful laugh broke the air, and Hermione whimpered. The flower…his face. It had changed, morphed, mutated. It wasn’t even unfriendly anymore. It was downright scary. This was very, very wrong. 

“Why would ANYONE pass up an opportunity like this?!” Flowey cackled. A ring of those white pellets appeared in the air surrounding Hermione. She tried to take a step back, then another…and she hit a wall. A colorless, textureless barrier, one that was all but invisible save the white glowing grid marking its existence. The same grid was below her feet, above her head. Surrounding herself and the flower. How had she not noticed it before? Had this been here all along? The cube was spacious, but it was seemingly impenetrable, and Hermione hadn’t a clue what to do– “DIE.”

Her gaze snapped to Flowey, then to the pellets. They were closing in, and no matter which direction she moved, they followed her, growing ever closer. True fear filled her, and Hermione began to wonder if maybe she shouldn’t have left that first cavern after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear what people think! Thanks for reading!


End file.
